


lambs have teeth, too

by n0t_bess1e_b4ss_0n_the_b4ss



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Band as Family, Bessie is the Mom Friend, Dark Thoughts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Hallucinations, Hearing Voices, Heavy Angst, I swear, Maggie has ADD, Maggie needs a hug, Protective Siblings, Scratching, Self-Destruction, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Touch-Starved, maggie just wants to be loved, sensory overloads, that should be a tag, well like they’re not related but u know what I mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 07:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20131396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n0t_bess1e_b4ss_0n_the_b4ss/pseuds/n0t_bess1e_b4ss_0n_the_b4ss
Summary: Maggie hates herself.





	lambs have teeth, too

_ “Have you ever seen blood in snow?_  
Let me tell you  
It’s one the worst things to ever see  
Like brain matter  
Or the scooped out insides of a freshly gutted deer  
The smell is the worst, however  
But you get used to it real fast  
I’m ashamed to say”

  
———

  
Before Maggie even opened her eyes, she knew it was going to be one of those days.

  
She hauled herself out of bed, not caring enough to pick up her plush dog toy that had fallen on the ground in the middle of the night. Usually, she would have scrambled to grab it, but today…today just wasn’t good already. It didn’t matter. In fact, even looking at something so juvenile made her blood boil.

  
She kicks the stupid thing under her bed and went downstairs. Already, the anger bubbles up inside of her.

  
Everything was too loud- the TV, the clanging of pots in the kitchen, Maria’s voice, Joan already playing her keyboard. All the noises were drilling deep into her ears and she could barely control herself from yelling about it.

  
Weaving past Bessie, Maggie immediately grabbed her medicine bottle and was about to down one of the pills when she stopped. She should probably eat first, but she didn’t care enough to. She probably didn’t even deserve to.

  
“Maggie?”

  
Maggie blinked out of her daze, swallowing the pill quickly and turning to Bessie. She almost missed what she said because a voice cackled in her left ear.

  
“Are you alright? You look a little out of it.”

  
“Fine!” Maggie replied, “Just a little sleepy still. That’s all.”

  
By all accounts she should be feeling fine. She didn’t have much trauma from her past life, she had a wonderful new family and friends (did she just refer to the ladies in waiting as her family?), and she was living out her dream of playing music. But, somehow, Maggie feels worse. You’d think the band and show would take her mind off of how much she hates herself, but you would be very wrong.

  
Maggie had issues. If the medications and a voice telling her not to eat weren’t any indications already.

  
A lot of this came from her ADD. She had to get diagnosed when she started acting up a few weeks after the whole reincarnation thing, which worried her bandmates and even the queens. Now she had to take Adderall for it, which was fine, really. She just wished it was a higher dose. She wished the effects would make all her bad thoughts go away.

  
In a perfect world, maybe.

  
There’s a stone that sets in her stomach when she sits down at the table for breakfast and it just gets heavier as she thinks. _Thinks, thinks, thinks._ Her flaw really. She thinks too much or not enough but never the right amount. Lost in thought or speaking before she can think better of it. Too much and not enough. She can’t win.

  
She hates herself.

  
Nothing she does seems to help. Home remedies wouldn’t work. Getting more sunlight didn’t do shit, exercising is good when she can find the energy to do it, and self-taught breathing techniques that actually work are few and far between. Her chest hurts just thinking about it. Thinking about how she’s failed so many times, when really all she probably needed was a therapist.

  
But the trips actually working were a long shot. How could talking to a complete stranger help her? She’s cried out her emotions several times without much change in her desire to self loathe; she doesn’t need to do it in the vicinity of another person, let alone someone she doesn’t really know.

  
Not only that, getting one is a whole other problem. Even if she didn’t tell her bandmates, they would still probably find out eventually. That was something she didn’t want to face. Their worry when she worked so hard to seem okay.

  
_But she wasn’t, she wasn’t, she wasn’t-_

  
Maggie barely ate before she put her plate away and excused herself to go get ready for the show that day. Maybe a shower would help her, but doubted the odds of that.

  
She considered drowning herself. She did that a lot, but never actually made a move to even try. She wasn’t ready for the pain, so she just sat in the shower with her knees pulled to her chest.

  
Scalding rain beats down on her skin as she stared at the water rushing down the drain. The hiss of the spigot was so loud, but couldn’t rival the voice that rose once again to torment her.

  
It begins to whisper things over and over again in her head like a symphony of ridicule that she can’t escape. Not that she’d want to. She needs to hear it, she needs to know her flaws. It’s not fair to her friends if she just ignored what’s so obviously wrong about herself.

  
Tears are sliding down Maggie’s cheeks like rivers of her hurting, completely disgusting and pitiful. God, she was so pathetic. She didn’t even have a right to be upset about this, she doesn’t have the right to feel sorry for herself.

  
And yet…

  
Maggie stood up shakily. She needed to get out of the shower before she started full on sobbing because then she would be there all day and would probably miss the show. Unlikely, but the thought still taunts her, so she stumbled out, nearly tripping and falling in the process. Drying off her hair and getting dressed, she quickly exited the bathroom and made a beeline back for her room. Surely there was something she could do to distract herself. Just for a little bit to give her mind a rest.

  
If that was even still possible.

  
———

  
It starts with a dull pounding in the back of Maggie’s skull in the middle of Don’t Lose Ur Head.

  
It really was gonna be one of those days, huh?

  
The voices may have stopped because of the loudness of the show, but her body was still out to make her suffer. Not only was she desperately wanting to stim and fidget, she may have a sensory overload coming on.

  
Everything was just. So bright. So loud. She couldn’t even hear herself think, which might have been a good thing, but it still stressed her out. She didn’t want to listen to this music anymore; she wanted her earbuds and the comfort playlist she had created herself. Could they really not play at least _one_ of the songs on that track?

  
Apparently not.

  
Maybe it wasn’t a sensory overload, though. Maybe she was fine. Could just be dehydration. When was the last time she drank water again?

  
There was a gentle touch on her shoulder during a part where the band didn’t play and Maggie jumped. She looked to the side to see Joan reaching over. There was a worried look on the keyboardist’s face.

  
“You okay?” She mouthed.

  
Maggie swallowed hard and nodded.  
But she wasn’t because she was definitely about to have a sensory overload.

  
All throughout Heart of Stone, Maggie struggled. The sound was fine, but the spotlights were so bright. She felt like she was being blinded and had to close her eyes, but even then it didn’t help. Her headache was getting worse, too.  
But Haus of Holbein is what made her spiral.

  
Everything about it was just too much. The bass, the drums, the singing, the stomping and jumping, the strobe lights- oh the strobe lights made her so nauseous. There were multiple periods where she threw up a little in her mouth and had to swallow painfully before she made a mess all over herself.

  
It was so hard to focus, and playing her guitar was a whole other issue. The strings were blurring together into one big vibrating mass; she wasn’t even sure how she managed to keep up with the song or stay on tune with how hazy and spotty her vision was getting.

  
She felt like she was dying. Her head was practically cracking open and now her clothes seem to be too tight on her body. She had to scratch so badly, but her hands wouldn’t leave her guitar. Fire ants continued to march beneath her flesh, gnawing and chewing on her muscles until they burned intensely.

  
The moment Haus of Holbein ended and intermission began, Maggie was off of the stage. She didn’t have a lot of time, maybe thirty minutes, and she couldn’t waste any of it.

  
A sob rips free from her mouth the moment she gets into the empty bathroom. She staggered into one the stalls and collapsed to her knees, choking on the tears that spill down her cheeks. So many things run through her muddled mind and she just can’t keep up anymore.

  
Her skin continued to prickle. It wasn’t like a burn. It was a constant itch that, no matter what, surged through her veins and through all layers of her flesh and through her bone. Racking her entire body, leaving her vulnerable.

  
Until she struck back, that is.

  
Her fingernails raked over her flesh, scratching fervently until the skin broke and blood began to spill free. Even then, she didn’t stop, because the itch didn’t, either. She was losing the battle and the ants continued to swarm.

  
It was all just so much. Too much. Too uncomfortable and unbearable.

  
She wanted to get out of these clothes, she wanted to get out of this theater, she wanted to get out of her skin.

  
But would even that soothe her?

  
Nothing did. Not anymore.

  
She was a lost cause.

  
Another sob ripped free from her throat and Maggie huddled in the corner, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. She pressed her burning forehead to the cool wall, crying weakly. The noises she was making made her chest hurt terribly, constricting her lungs with hot iron bands. Breathing was starting to become difficult, too, which only added to her list of problems right now.

  
Oh and great…there was someone in the bathroom with her, watching and listening to her breakdown.

  
Wait-

  
Oh god.

  
The dark person she saw wasn’t a person at all, but a figment of her imagination, a hallucination her warped mind created for her to see. It was faceless and just stood there, adding waves after waves of terror to Maggie until she finally tore her eyes away. Not looking, however, didn’t stop the voices.

  
They tell her how worthless she is. How pathetic she is. How she doesn’t deserve to be acting like this. How she should just kill herself if she thinks she hurting that much.

  
She considers it. Considers it ending it all. Maybe slam her skull into the wall until it splits open and brain matter oozes out.

  
But she doesn’t. Not because she doesn’t want to, but because she’s too scared. And she can’t move. The voices sneer when she doesn’t obey and continued to berate her.

  
Maggie is quickly reduced to weak whimpers and hiccups. She wished one of the other ladies in waiting were with her. She wished she was being held right now, being told how loved she was.

  
But she wasn’t, was she? Nobody loved her. Nobody even liked her.

  
Nobody wanted her.

  
———

  
This path of self-destruction and loathing continued for five days until Maggie finally broke. She couldn’t even quite remember what sent her into the spiral in the first place, but it wasn’t important anymore. Nothing was.

  
She was barley eating anymore. She isolated herself more, never going out after shows and just shutting herself in her room for most of those days. When she did come out, she could tell the other ladies in waiting were slightest agitated with her behavior. Not in the annoyed sort of way, but that’s how Maggie perceived it.

  
They hated her.

  
Maggie’s thighs and shoulders and stomach were covered in angry red scratches. The bugs were everywhere now, but nothing ever got rid of them. She was scarring herself for nothing.  
But her fingernails weren’t going to be enough forever.

  
She has tried to push back those thoughts, though. But she’s weakened right now as she paces around her bedroom. Vulnerable.

_“Poor little girl. In so much pain.”_

Maggie whirls around in circles, expecting to see one of the ladies in waiting messing with her. Instead, there was a girl- a blackened figure, really. She spun on her heels and threw a pillow at it, who ducked. She grabbed something else and hurled it, too.

  
“How did you get in here?!”

  
_ “I’ve always been here.”_

  
The thing ducked under a jar that was thrown at it and it shattered against the wall. A pen hit its shoulder and it disappeared.

  
“You’re-you’re not real! You’re…just another hallucination! Yeah, that’s it..”

  
_ “Oh, I’m very real, Margaret.”_ The shadow said in an almost identical voice, expect its was hoarser and filled with more malice. It materialized right in front Maggie, causing her to reel backwards in fright._ “You’ve just been denying my existence for a very long time.”_

  
“N-no… It’s just the lack of sleep. And food. And..”

  
The shadow raised an eyebrow and then chuckled deep in its throat.

  
_ “Wrong again, sweetie.”_ It said. _“I’ve been with you ever since this new life. Haven’t you heard my voice?”_

  
A cacophony of thoughts filled Maggie’s head, all telling her about how worthless she was. It was painful to hear.

  
“No, no, NO!” She clutches at her head, clamping her hands over her ears in a vain attempt to get the noises to stop. “This. This,” She gestured to the space between them, “This isn’t happening.”

  
_ “Want to turn around and count to five then see if I’m still here, then?”_

  
Maggie blinked in shock. Was she being insulted by a hallucination? That’s one more thing to beat down her ego.

  
“You aren’t real.” She merely said again.

  
The shadow snorted.

  
_ “This is the exact definition of insanity.” _The voice was coming from everywhere, but the illusion was gone. _“Doing the exact thing over and over again and expecting shit to change. Your naivety is so cute, sweetie.”_

  
Maggie spun around to try and find the source of the voice before quickly realizing it was rebounding around in her skull.

  
_ “You believe you could have done better. You could be better.”_

  
She looks up and sees her shadow standing there, smiling.

  
_ “But you can’t.”_

  
“This is your fault!” Maggie spat, reeling away.

  
_ “Keep pinning the blame on others, Maggie. If that’s what gets you to sleep at night.” _The shadow shrugged, _“Keep blaming the world. Does it make you feel better?”_

  
“Leave me alone,” Maggie growled, but it came out weak and shaky.

  
_ “You don’t want that,”_ The shadow said. _“You don’t want to be alone. You want to be held. You want those people downstairs to hold you and love you.”_

  
Shame burned on Maggie’s cheeks, turning her face bright red. She didn’t like hearing all of her desires and fantasies put out like this.

  
_ “But guess what, sweetie?”_

  
The shadow waits for an answer it knows it won’t get.

  
_ “They won’t. They don’t love you. They don’t even need you. The band could do much better without an amateur child on guitar. Bessie is so much better than you.”_

  
Maggie whimpered pathetically. She backs herself into the wall, shaking her head back and forth repeatedly. The shadow only turns to watch her, smirking widely at how helpless she looked.

  
“N-no. You’re wrong,” Maggie said weakly and the shadow quirked a brow, “Th-they said they l..loved…”

  
The shadow blinked before howling in laughter. Maggie whimpered again and covered her ears, but it does nothing to help, as the horrible sound ricochets throughout her skull. A third noise escapes her lips, but this one is a lot more agonized.

  
_ “They said they loved you?!” _The shadow shrieked in amusement, still chortling. _“Really?”_

  
Maggie opened her mouth, but then closed it and looked away.

  
No, they never did. They never said anything like that, Maggie just wished they did. She pretended they did. She wanted to hear those three words so badly.

  
_ “That’s what I thought.” _The shadow said, _“Face it, sweetie, your little band isn’t like those queens you work under. You aren’t a family. You aren’t even friends. You’re just people who work together and are forced to live together because it’s more convenient. But convenience can only keep someone around for so long until the little guitarist they’re living with becomes too much to handle.”_

  
It strides forward and corners Maggie, who cowers like a kicked puppy. She flinches when it leans into her face.

  
_ “They will never love you.”_

  
Maggie shoved the shadow away and scampered out of the corner, scrubbing her eyes viciously. There was an angered hiss from behind her.

  
“_You’re a mistake.”_ The shadow snapped. “_Say it, Maggie.”_

  
“No.”

  
_ “Say it, Margaret.”_

  
“No…!”

  
Maggie has her hands over her ears again.

  
_ “Say it.”_

  
“No!”

  
_ “Please say it, darling.”_

  
That was Bessie’s voice. The sweet, soothing tone Maggie liked to think was reserved specially for her. It always lulled her so easily.

  
“I’m…a mistake.”

  
There was a deep chuckle. The shadow glides past to stand in front of her. It cups one of her cheeks with a freezing black hand and she hates how she leans into it. She was pretend it was Maria’s hand, Joan’s hand, or Bessie’s hand.

  
_ “Good girl.” _The shadow purred, stroking her cheek with its thumb. _“Don’t take it personally, sweetie, you’re just not good enough for anyone.” _It smiled widely at the way Maggie whimpered, but still didn’t pull away. She was too touch-starved. _“You’re a waste of time and space. Those people will realize that very soon. That is if they haven’t already, of course.”_

  
There is a heavy silence between the two. Maggie still isn’t pulling away. Her tears are being wiped away and she hates how much she enjoyed the gesture. She hates herself for being so weak.

  
“How do you recover from something like this?” She whispered.

  
_ “You don’t.”_ The shadow simply said.

  
She truly was a lost cause, then.

  
_ “Forgiveness is impossible. Forgetting is impossible. But…”_ A smile comes to the thing’s lips,_ “There is a way out.”_

  
Maggie watched as her shadow glided over to a drawer. It pulled it open and threw clothes across the room until it grabbed something wrapped in paper towels.

  
_ “How about it, sweetie?”_

  
“N-no. Not an option.” Maggie backed up, averting her eyes.

  
_ “It’s always an option.”_

  
The shadow offered the object to the swaying girl.

  
“No way. I’m not doing it.”

  
_ “The painkillers aren’t working, are they?” _The shadow says in that weirdly soothing voice that sends a shiver down Maggie’s spine and makes her want to hear more._ “Neither are the antidepressants. Or the dream-represents. Why not try something else? Come on…take it. You won’t feel a thing.”_ It tilted its head. _“Isn’t that what you want? That’s why you stole it, right?”_

  
“I… Yes… No…” Maggie mumbled, “I-it was an impulse. It was a mistake. That’s why I’ve been hiding it for the past month.”

  
_ “What are you afraid of?”_

  
“Death.” Maggie said bluntly. She had fought so hard to stay alive and became a monster in the process. “And leaving. Bessie. Joan and Maria. All my friends. I can’t do this to them.”

  
_ “Why? We’ve been over this. They don’t care.”_ The shadow says,_ “You’re a waste of time- a hopeless cause. No one wants you.”_

  
Maggie stares into the shadow’s glowing eyes and saw more correctness than she has ever felt. She felt the box cutter slip into her fingers.

  
_ “Take it,”_ The shadow murmured soothingly, dissolving into her,_ “It’ll all be okay. You won’t feel a thing…”_

  
_…I promise._

  
———

  
An hour passed ever since the end of the show that evening and Maggie was still up in her room, talking to herself. Everyone did that every once and awhile, but the girl has officially lost it. Joan and Maria were making good natured bets on how much furniture was going to be destroyed after the guitarist’s little tantrum.

  
There was suddenly a heavy thump from above that made Bessie snap her head up, followed by Joan and Maria doing the same. Did that come from Maggie’s room?

  
“I’m going to go check on her.” Joan volunteered, hurrying up to the bedroom. She knocks on the door. “Maggie? I know you want to be alone right now, but…I left my phone in there. Can you open up for a minute?”

  
What a horrible excuse.

  
“Alright. Can you give me a sign that you’re okay?”

  
Nothing. But then the faintest of whimpers. Joan’s blood ran cold.

  
“I’m serious, young lady! I will stand here all night and keep yelling at you!”

  
Still nothing.

  
“Okay, if you don’t open up in five seconds I will…kick this door open!”

  
Five seconds passed and Joan realized she was going to have to use her allowance to fix the door after this was all over.

  
“Well, damn. Okay…”

  
Joan backed up and side kicked the door. Pain shuttered up her leg, quickly receding as the door burst open.

  
“Oh, wow, that worked!”

  
Her mini celebration was cut short when she saw the shivering girl in the room, on her knees as blood poured out of a cut on her wrist. Both of them stared at each other like deer in headlights before Joan lunges forward with a shout.

  
“Maggie!!”

  
Maggie flinched away, trying to weakly evade. She only managed to send splatters of blood droplets everywhere.

  
“Oh my god,” Joan grabbed her hand tightly, causing the young musician to whimper. “Oh my god. Why? Maggie, _why?_”

  
No. Anything but that. Anything but that damned question.

  
Maggie tried to pull away, but the grip was only tightened. Everything got worse when Bessie and Maria came rushing in and they, too, saw the bloody mess.

  
“_MAGGIE!!_”

  
And they screamed just as loudly.

  
Maria darted out of the room to go grab things to help while Bessie knelt down to Maggie’s side. She sets a hand on her back, rubbing gently.

  
“Oh, sweetie,” Bessie murmured. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  
Something in Maggie’s chest snapped.

  
“Why didn’t you notice?” She snarled.

  
Bessie and Joan are both frozen in shock. They can’t answer and Maggie realizes the shadow had been right. They didn’t care at all.

  
“Sorry for ruining this life for you.”

  
The girl shot to her feet, backing towards the door.

  
“You don’t have to suffer anymore. I wont come back.”

  
With that, she turned and sprinted out of her room, out of the house, out of their lives.

  
———

  
Maggie wished she had grabbed shoes before she fled, but she still pressed forward with sobbing gasps. She needed to distance herself from the house- from the pain that crushed in on her chest and tore at her mind. Or, at least, that’s what she thought.

  
She didn’t want to run away and leave them forever. Maggie wanted to be caught. Rather, Maggie wanted to be someone _worth_ catching. Maybe it was unfair, like a test, but she had to know. How much did they really like her? Want her?

  
_ “If they don’t come after you, then you have your answer,” _The shadow’s vicious, biting voice in the back of her head hissed.

  
She was only a few blocks down from their house. Any further and she worried they wouldn’t be able to find her. But she was already imagining the reunion in that childlike part of her brain that was filled with so much naivety: The relieved looks, the sweet voices calling her name, telling her how worried they were, the hugs, the closeness and affection. It projected like a movie in her head, but was overlaid by vile chanting.

  
**They don’t need you. They won’t come for you. They don’t want you.**

  
Maggie skidded to a halt, scratching up her heels even more. She turned around and could still faintly see the glow of the porch light, but that was it. Maria wasn’t calling her name, Joan was sprinting after her, Bessie wasn’t getting in the car to pick her up. No matter how long she waited, they didn’t come.

  
Shame burned Maggie’s cheeks as she choked on a sob. What did she expect? Some dramatic movie scene where her family- FRIENDS ran after her and they embraced and reunited in the rain? This is real life, Maggie, and it’s not even raining. It’s snowing.

  
It was real life and the fantasy she had created for herself was all wrong. The message was finally received.

  
_You are not wanted._

  
Dark thoughts weaved their way through Maggie’s mind like a spider spinning a web. New fantasies that were so much more extreme than what she usually came up with.

  
What if she sneaked back and hung herself in the backyard? What if she slit her throat on the porch and let them watch her bleed out? What if she set the house on fire so they would die with her? What if she broke in and disemboweled herself in the living room?

  
Maggie choked again; this time was much more painful. She looked down and saw the blood flowing from her wrist has made the thin blanket of snow on the ground damp. The color was not an ordinary red. It was the color her insides would be when she cut herself open wide for the world to see.

  
She laughed darkly. Cold acceptance settled in her chest and wrapped itself like a shield around her heart.

  
She started running again. The cold bit at her bare feet, but she could hardly care. Nothing mattered anymore.

  
Maggie didn’t get far. She ended up slipping on a piece of ice and came crashing to the ground in front of some house. There, she laid like a broken doll, whimpering and shivering. She replayed her false fantasy in her mind one last time before she blacked out.

  
———

  
Maria considered ignoring Aragon when she called, as she, Joan, and Bessie were too busy looking for Maggie, but she was glad she gave in and decided to answer. The first thing she heard was Aragon telling her to get over to her house immediately. Then,_ “We have Maggie.”_

  
That was enough to send all three ladies in waiting into the car and speeding over to the queen’s shared house. True to Aragon’s word, Maggie was there, unconscious on their couch while Parr was wrapping up the cut on her arm. Disregarding the young musician’s blacked out state, it was Joan who hurtled herself forward and hugged her limp body so tightly she probably could have woken her up if she squeezed anymore. When she heard Maggie mumble something and then twitched violently, Joan whispered to her, soothed she, not caring about who saw or heard her because she had her little sister (she made that decision with confidence) safely in her arms and she just wanted to help her.

  
Meanwhile, Maria and Bessie are thanking all of the queens profusely, while also asking a few questions. Once all of that is settled, though, Joan picks Maggie up bridal-style, holding her very carefully, and they all drove back home.  
Maggie was twitching and whimpering and mumbling in her unconscious state the whole time. A tear even slipped free from her screwed shut eyes at one point and Joan was quick to wipe it away. At her touch, Maggie nuzzled against her fingers, a soft whine-like noise uttering from her throat. Joan felt herself getting a little choked up, but held herself together.

  
Maggie didn’t wake up until late that next morning. It’s obvious she was exhausted by the running and crying and just everything that had been going on.

  
When she woke up, she was alarmed to see that she wasn’t on the street. Or dead, for that matter. No, she was nestled right up against Joan, wrapped in a fluffy blue blanket on the couch. Maria and Bessie were in the kitchen, talking quietly. Maggie jerked up, rousing Joan to wakefulness and grabbing the other ladies in waiting’s attention.

  
“Maggie-“

  
Maggie was already trying to run again. Maria leapt after her and grabbed her by the wrist (thank god it wasn’t the hurt one).

  
“You’re not leaving again, young lady.” Maria said firmly.

  
“Let go,” Maggie tugged uselessly. Her voice is very hoarse and weak still. “Please. Please, I’ll leave! Just stop leading me on like this!”

  
That’s what made Maria release Maggie in shock, sending her flying backwards to the floor. Joan and Bessie jumped and ran to her aid, quickly followed by Maria.

  
“What in the world are you talking about?” Bessie asked.

  
Maggie’s entire face turned bright red and she tried to look away to hide the shame, but she couldn’t. It was impossible. She whimpered pathetically.

  
“Y-you guys..d-don’t want me.” She choked out through breathy gasps, “I’m just a b-burden. I c-cause so many problems and I’m y-young a-and I’m just a _mistake_.” Her voice cracked and pitched horrendously on that last words and the tears spilled free. She doubled over, digging her fingernails deep into her knees until blood blooms from contact.

  
The other ladies in waiting weren’t moving or doing anything. They were too disgusted to touch her. The thought made Maggie sob loudly, quaking her entire body, and her fingernails sink in deeper, desperate to cause more damage to her already broken body.

  
Then, warm hands grab hers and pry her nails free. Maggie glances up for a split second to see it’s Joan holding her hands before her eyes dart back down.

  
“You are absolutely not a mistake, Maggie.” Joan said. “Do you not understand what a blessing you are to this group? How much you mean to all of us?”

  
They…thought she was a blessing?

  
Maggie’s heart ached. It felt like someone was reaching in with burning talons and squeezing until it burst. Even then, the pain didn’t subside.

  
“Y-you…” Maggie slurred, but the words died on her tongue.

  
“You’re so important to us, kid.” Maria spoke up next. “You’re like our sister!”

  
Maggie felt very dizzy all of a sudden. _Sister_. Like family. Another painful sob rattled her body and she choked for a moment, causing Maria to move closer to her side so she could rub her back.

  
“Breathe, baby girl,” Maria murmured and her gentle, velvety tone of voice made butterflies flutter in Maggie’s stomach, “Breathe. We’ve got you. We’re here. You’re going to be okay.”

  
This was all too much. It really was what Maggie always wanted, but her mind, the shadow, still made her believe it was forced. They were doing this out of pity. All of it is lies.

  
But then Bessie cupped either sides of her face with her hands and made her look up. The bassist’s eyes are rimmed with slight red and there’s a trace of a tear running down her cheek.

  
Bessie never cried…

  
“Maggie, we love you.”

  
All of the air is knocked from Maggie’s body when she hears those words. Those three words she’s been dying to hear for so long.

  
“We love you so, _so_ much, darling. Do you understand that?”

  
Maggie nodded and a fresh set of tears flow free.

  
“I-I just…” She hiccuped and tried to gather the words, “I-I’ve wanted to hear that f-for so long and n-now that I have, I…” She takes a few deep breaths, struggling intensely, but pushing on, “Thank you…! Thank you s-so much..”

  
“Come here, honey.”

  
Bessie pulled Maggie into her arms, completely into her lap, and held her. Joan and Maria joined instantly, wrapping the young guitarist up in their arms, holding her together even though she felt like she was going to shatter into millions of pieces.

  
Maggie has her face buried in Bessie’s chest, saying “thank you” over and over again until her voice died off and she became too weak to blubber and mumble anymore. She lifts her head and sets it completely on Bessie’s chest, listening to her heartbeat and the soothing words being whispered to her as she was reduced to hiccups and sniffles.

  
“The queens may be ‘Six’, but we’re Four.” Maria said, then immediately followed it up with, “That sounded a lot better in my head.”

  
Joan bursts into laughter, but tried to contain herself, while Bessie snorted a little, chuckling while shaking her head. She smiled down at Maggie when she felt the girl in her arms giggle slightly.

  
“Feeling any better, sweetie?” She asked in that soothing tone that always made Maggie feel loved.

  
“A little.” Maggie murmured. “Thank you.”

  
“No problem, kid.” Maria ruffled her hair.

  
“Anything for you.” Joan added.

  
Maggie’s heart fluttered at those words. She was loved. These people needed her. They truly needed her and wanted her and loved her.

  
“Ready to get up?” Bessie asked.

  
Maggie is quiet.

  
“Sweetie?”

  
“C-can you…” Maggie’s cheeks turned pink slightly, “Can you hold me a little longer?”

  
All of the other ladies in waiting smiled. Maria ran to go get the blanket from the couch and managed to wrap it around all of them when they snuggled together close enough.

  
“Of course.”

  
And they did.


End file.
